


To Whom It May Concern (Fransykes)

by Asking4AHorizon



Category: Bring Me The Horizon, You Me At Six
Genre: Depression, Diary/Journal, His sister does too but she has more stuff, M/M, Sad, Self-Harm, Slow To Update, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, josh has adhd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29592441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asking4AHorizon/pseuds/Asking4AHorizon
Summary: Sometimes nothing can stop you. When you're so determined to do something, there's not a single thing in the world that can stop you. Until there is.Joshua's pov unless stated otherwise.
Relationships: Josh Franceschi/Oliver Sykes





	1. Happy Birthday, Little Bird

Today.

August 7.

The day I turn seventeen, the day I die.

Today.

I couldn't think about anything else; not like there actually was something else for me to think of. I've been preparing this for months already, and it finally came. It was almost unbelievable to me that I was actually going forward with it. I didn't care. I guess I kind of expected myself to be thrilled or something but I was just numb. Though the knowledge that I wouldn't live past today left me light and it was exactly how I wanted it to be like.

I know. I know I sound stupid. I don't care. I know, I'm an asshole, I know I suck, shut up about it. I don't feel bad about it, you know? I don't feel bad, I know I'm selfish blah blah blah. I know. I think about this day every day, I considered every other option and yet neither seemed as appealing as this. I know.

My notebook, my favourite sweater. Pills, blades. I was finally there. Maybe it was just my luck but today was actually Friday. A day that I had the luck to spend alone. Hey, I don't mind.

I do. Don't tell my brain that.

"Bye-bye, arsehole!" Max yelled out at me from distance, making me turn around. I rolled my eyes, raising up my middle finger to him.

"Fucking dick," I muttered under my breath but he probably knew I was cussing at him.

He only chuckled. I wonder how he'll react when he realises that this was the last thing he would say to me. It doesn't matter. _I don't mind_. Dan was chuckling beside him, waving at me too. I did the same. Both of them turned around and left me behind to go home. It was my turn to turn around and leave so I did.

These dudes were... good dudes. A little awful at times with their stupid jokes and their stupidly obnoxious attitude that annoyed me like fucking hell, but they're overall good dudes. I hoped they would make it in life. Maybe they'll remember me, too. I don't know. I didn't want to dwell on that. I didn't want to dwell on anything.

I didn't go home. No. Listen, I know I'm an arsehole. I'm not an inconsiderate arsehole though. If I'm going to kill myself, the last thing I need is my sister finding me or my parents. I didn't need to traumatize them like that. I'm stupid but not that stupid. So I left.

I took the route that crossed my house. I know, I just said I wouldn't go home, but I had to do something before I left. So I walked, passing by houses and cars and people and passing by life. It all seemed so different though. I knew I wouldn't be seeing things like that again, I knew I wouldn't see a dog again or a cat or a person, I knew all of this would never be stared at by me nor would all of this ever stare back at me so maybe it was that knowledge that made things so different. It was sort of a nice change, too.

When you hear that someone is heading to their death, you probably imagine them crying. Maybe sobbing, maybe fighting, maybe scared. That wasn't me. I was peaceful actually, in a way I had never been before. The thought of death and I had made a truce.

I know I'm stupid and cringy, shut up.

It was funny because today was also a sunny day. Few clouds hovering above here and there, gently and carelessly floating to wherever the fuck the wind took them. I wish I could be like that. No, not really. I'm gonna die anyway so what does that matter?

I still can't believe the day has come. It's such a surreal thought but it surely feels fucking great.

Minutes after and my home was at sight. My god. I'm gonna miss this.

No, I won't. I won't miss coming back to a desolated house. I won't miss a single fucking thing. I'm fucking done with this.

When I got inside the house, I didn't take my time to pay attention to it. I wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. I couldn't stand this anymore.

My room was the place I jogged up as soon as the front door was shut. My little cursed sanctuary. Okay, maybe if there was something that I was going to miss it would be my room. Those walls had heard and seen so much. They knew more about me than I knew about myself. Props to them, they would never see me again.

My room was completely tided up. I took my time cleaning it because I wanted to make sure it was as vacant as possible. Didn't want other people to waste more time over me. A few boxes I collected over the time were piled up on the corner, each of them holding out a different thing that used to belong to me; clothes, school material, a few useless things, some collections of mine, many things that wouldn't have any sort of use to me anymore. I kinda wanted these things to be donated to people who would need it but it wasn't really up to me what the parents would decide to do with it. Eh, who cares.

I was quick to grab the box with the school material and dump everything on my backpack onto it. I fixed it up before I was shutting the box again, pushing it back where it was.

Nice.

Standing up, I searched inside the bag everything else I needed. My phone.

Now, that was one thing I would take with me. It was charged up just enough so I plugged in my headphones.

If I'm leaving this world, I'm not leaving before I listen up to my songs. That's a promise. I got out the other things too before I was hiding the headphones under my shirt, keeping my favourite sweater inside the bag. I wanna be buried in it. Hopefully, they'll get the memo. I just hope the sleeves don't get dirty with blood. Eh.

As soon as I pressed shuffle, one of my favourite songs came up. To be honest, I love all of these songs. They're what kept me alive until the last moment and I can't be more grateful of them. But to tell you the truth, I just can't wait until I close my eyes, go to sleep and never come back. So maybe I'm not all that grateful for them.

Yeah, I'm sorry for disrespecting them like that, I am.

Slipping my phone in my back pocket, I messed around on my empty backpack, getting on one of the little hidden bags inside of it. A tablet half-empty with Xanax got into my grip, making me sigh. I don't think mom would mind too much. I mean, she probably would but it's not like I'll be here to get the end of it. Besides, she could get more, especially since she wasn't really... prescribed so it doesn't really make a difference.

I popped out one, quickly getting it on my mouth before I wandered to the bathroom and cupped some water in my hands before drinking it to swallow the pill down. I could use another one when I was closer to the forest, otherwise, I may not even make it there. And that would be a shame.

I shrugged the backpack back into my shoulders, taking one last look around. Everything was just as suffocating as ever. I really don't belong here, don't I? What the hell am I still doing here?

No. Now it wasn't time to get back onto being a pessimistic little shit. I wouldn't take another single moment longer. I quickly turned around and left my room, taking one last gaze around the hallways. They were always so empty and big. This entire house was. No wonder I always felt so small.

No more.

I left fast before the sinking little feeling crawled back in my back and made me stall more. I was done, I didn't want to postpone this anymore. Even if now I felt heavy.

Fuck. I didn't want to do shit. I did want to leave, though. So I got onto the walking. My home was near the edge of the town so there was some forest close to it. It was half an hour walk at least. It gave me time to appreciate things one last time and I was glad for that, even if it would take forever.

I could feel the drug's effect over my insides, making me calm down even more than I already was and sort of fluttery. I sighed. I was so weightless at this point. Even if I was still heavy. I was both and yet none and it was funny because I wanted to die because of both but I wanted to feel both. I don't know. Everything made me want to die at this point. Or maybe I just thought about death far too much. Well. We'll never know.

Soft, melodramatic piano notes came up as soon as one song ended. My lips wanted to curl but I didn't really have it in me to smile right now.

Oh yeah, baby. I loved when Joji came on shuffle. It would always make me take a second to appreciate the smooth little side of things. And it was stupidly odd over how his songs kept me going when they were so down. I loved it.

" _Now would you hate me if I said goodbye so quick you could eat my dust?_ " I mumbled out quietly, nodding my head softly along with the beat, my hands clutching my bag. My voice was nothing more than a whisper and that's what I wanted it to be. It's not like there was anyone around anyways. Everyone was in their houses or somewhere else and I would occasionally pass by some random stranger. " _Now would you hate me if I ran like hell in the wind from dawn 'til dusk?_ "

The music was blasting off my ears and it muffled out every single sound outside. I loved it. It helped me being more secluded and, even if I hated being cold, even if I hated being alone, it was what I needed. I loved it even if I hated it. But hey, even hell can get comfortable once you're settled in.

It's actually even odder because I do like being alone. During the day, I never really minded if there was nobody else around. My problem was the nighttime. Thankfully, when the nighttime comes, I won't be here. No, I'll be dead by dawn.

When I walked and listened to music it was like I wasn't me and all the same I was. Maybe like I was watching things from someone else's perspective but I wasn't sure if this was because of the song since I actually felt like that more often than not. I honestly just wanted to feel something but I wanted to be numb. Or maybe I was too numb to feel as much as I did. I don't know. Feelings are weird. I hate them with a passion and yet I love them with disgust. It's all a mess. Oh, the irony! So am I.

I should be a goddamn comedian.

Nah, I should be dead.

Wait, I will be dead!

Dope.

When a few songs had passed and another beat came up, I was getting inside the forest. I wasn't humming along with the song anymore, I was just enjoying it. It was so sweet and heavy and I understood exactly how the dude felt because I was going insane too but it's not like it was someone's fault but my own. I think. These things are weird as shit. Everything is.

I breathed out and bit my lip. A sigh. Many trees hovered above me, their branches and leaves hiding most part of the sky, even if some sunlight did pass between them. It was still bright thanks to those little lights. I liked how the forest gave off this little mysterious yet bright vibe. Like it had so much to hide and yet it was all visible. Everything was just pretty and calming. I think that was the main reason why I picked the forest. Possibly because whenever I came here no one else _was_ here so- Well. That's just a useless detail.

As the trees began to shorten down, getting smaller and smaller, they started to decrease until weren't all that pushed up together, but now had a good few feet between them and the ground wasn't just dirt anymore but rather little rocks. After the rocks started, though, there were no more plants. A few feet ahead of the last tree I had to pass, there was a little river, flowing so perfectly and so clear that you could see the rocks under it. It was pretty shallow, too. On the other side, you could see that it mirrored the side I came from.

Near the river, there was this rock that was big enough to sit, which was where I spent most of the time when I came here. It wouldn't be different this time. Plopping down on it, I brought my backpack to my lap, grabbing out another little yellow pill before I was letting it rest on my tongue. I leaned in closer to the river and cupped a handful of water that I quickly gulped it down, exhaling slowly.

I feel like I should apologize, even if it wouldn't be real, I probably should. Maybe the letter I would leave wasn't enough. Oh well, it's never enough.

You see, this was sort of why I was doing this. I was done with everything. During my life, I never really had something to be sad about, never really had a reason to cry. Why, then? That's a little complicated but I guess I can try and justify.

Everything is just pointless. We live to die, we live in fear of dying. Most of us at least. That's human nature though, be scared of the unknown, and it's so unreal. Nothing seems real until you feel pain, nothing is real until you think. But that's another failure of ours. We hate to think. We live with closed eyes because we know, we know there's no point on doing anything. We ignore it. Everything. Because everything will end someday, nothing truly lasts forever. That happy memory, that friendship, those smiles and laughs, the sworn love, the emptiness, the pain, the desires, everything will end. Nothing is truly eternal, it all ends with death. And that's our fear. The thought of never lasting, the thought that someday, you will be forgotten, that no one will know who you are, that nothing will prove you have ever been real. And we hate it.

We want to be remembered, we want to be missed and to be wanted. But it's just pointless. No, I don't know you, I don't know who you are and what you like or dislikes, I don't know your head, I don't know how you feel, I don't know shit about you. But don't deny it, you agree. Or maybe you don't. Maybe you have a purpose, maybe you have a reason to live. But after that? What about the after? It's the after that kill us. Or maybe not you, maybe it's just me. I don't know anymore. Maybe I'm just plain stupid and this doesn't make sense anymore. It wouldn't be a surprise. I never really seem to know what I'm talking about to anyone.

I have a terrible feeling about life. Not exactly life, but more like the future. What comes next just doesn't feel real. There are so many possibilities and so many ways things can be, how everything can turn into, changes that can happen. But I don't mean in a tomorrow morning way, I mean longer; when I have to work and take care of myself, be independent.

I can't. I can't see myself working eight hours per day, five days a week. I can't imagine a future for myself at all actually. It scares me. The future scares the living hell out of me, it seems so draining have to work and fight for survival and, I don't know, being alive and alone. There's something about it that somehow terrifies me. I can't see myself with someone else either. I can't imagine getting married, I don't think I could make someone be stuck with me for the rest of their lives, I just ain't marriage material. Really, I'm just a little useless piece of shit. Maybe that's another reason. I don't know, maybe I'm just plain stupid.

I inhaled slowly, eyes slipping shut. I was getting heavier. Sleep sounded so damn nice right now, I just wanted to sleep. But I couldn't. I had a goal right now and I swear to fuck I will punch myself if I don't go on with this. So I searched around in the bag again, limbs feeling so heavy and I was so goddamn exhausted. In all senses. What's the news in that?

My fingertips traced over a little bag. I grabbed it, placing my backpack beside me as I opened the lid of the box and let the things inside slip into my palm. A folded up letter and another thing, shining so brightly over the sun hitting it. I hated how taunting it seemed.

I wasn't a self-harmer. Never did I really go ahead and do something such as before. I never cut before. But I didn't really have a gun or a noose so I went with the next best option. I knew it would hurt and I didn't care anymore. As long as I never wake up again, sign me the fuck up.

The blades sitting on my palm was pretty sharp and new. I had bought it a few days prior since I started planning this. My eyes mindlessly studied them for a second before I was taking my hoodie out too. That hoodie was the only thing that made me feel safe nowadays, besides music, so it's what I needed to keep me safe after.

I kept the coat on my lap before I unplugged my earphones and wrapped them around my phone, slipping it back into the backpack. The sound of the river so mindlessly going on without care was so soothing. Or maybe the drug just affected me far too much already. Of course it did.

I didn't mind at this point.

I placed the letter on my lap, taking a deep breath as I held out the blade on my fingertips, exposing my own arm to myself. Deep, I had to go deep. I pressed it down on my skin, feeling it so weird but not alarmingly weird.

This was it.

I smiled. Faintly, but I smiled.

I was so fucked up, wasn't I?

"Good-fucking-bye," I muttered to nothing. Or maybe it wasn't to nothing, maybe it was to the river. Maybe it was to the trees, to the birds passing by. I don't know but it felt enough. Fuck that apology.

A bang, loud and dull. My head snapped up, hearing the shuffling of leaves now that I didn't have my headphones on.

Oh fuck, what the fuck.

Though, as whoever that saw me looking up, they quickly shuffled back and began to run, the leaves breaking under their feet as they left. I could faintly see their silhouette moving through the woods. I was frozen in place.

They were going to call the cops on me. They were going to ask for help and then my family would find out and then my plan would be ruined.

The fuck it will. I took a hard glance at the blade before I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath.

Are you fucking kidding me? I struggled with myself as I put the blade down. I waited for so fucking long for this just so some fucking idiot came by me? What the fuck!

I couldn't risk getting saved. I bit my lip harshly, annoyedly. I dropped the blade back on the box, swallowing hard. I swear to everything I believe, if I ever find out who interrupted me, I will beat the living daylights out of them before I proceed to kill myself. I stood up, getting my backpack and shoving the box back into it, taking a hard, bitter glance at the other side of the river.

A little leathered thing caught my eye as soon as I was going to turn out to leave and find somewhere else to die. It made my eyebrows furrow as I took a few steps closer to the river. A notebook, it seemed like. My eyes flickered back to the wood.

Whoever the fuck that decided to interrupt me probably dropped it.

I hope the motherfucker suffers without it.

I have to admit, I wasn't really thinking straight as I slipped my snickers off, crouching down to take my socks off and roll up my pants' ends. I honestly wasn't feeling myself at all. So I stepped up on the water.

Fucking hell, this was cold as fuck!

I flinched but didn't stop. Walking up to the other side, feeling the slippery rocks under my feet as the water weaved around my skin, probably annoyed with me for breaking up the flow, I kept my eyes fixated on the notebook. It had a pretty 'O.S' engraved over it and it made me frown.

What the fuck is an OS?

I stepped up on the dry part, leaving down my wet prints under my feet before I was quickly getting on the dirt part. I almost stepped on a cut out a stick and I swear it would have hurt like hell. But I didn't, thankfully.

I crouched down, picking the notebook up and gazing it all over. The leather seemed to be roughly treated, the half of the pages weren't smooth so they were probably used. It had the size of half a school notebook. I glanced around the woods again, hearing nothing but the flowing river behind me.

Fuck you, stranger.


	2. Fuck You, Emo Little Shit

I was fucking pissed.

As soon as my eyes slipped open, as soon as I realised that I was still here, I fucking raged.

No, I didn't go around destroying shit and screaming bloody murder, even though I wanted to do that but I didn't because whether I wanted it or not I still had the tiniest piece of sanity in me that was aware that if I did so my family would probably send me to a goddamn church or some shit like that.

When my mom kept knocking on the door and threatening to drag me out of bed herself, everything just resurfaced and I had to hold myself back.

Easy saying than doing. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt, my nails digging deep inside my palms, I was shaking. And that goddamned woman wouldn't shut the fuck up. I fucking get it! I'm awake, I'm alive, fucking leave me alone! Isn't that what you do best anyway? I breathed in, burning. She opened the door.

"You'll get late for school." She took a glance around the room but didn't ask. She never did. As long as outside the house I behaved like a trophy child, she didn't care.

"Yeah, I'm up," I replied coldly, grasping my sheets tightly. I'm awake. I wasn't supposed to be awake. She left soon after that, making me breathe again. I could never breathe around her. Every inhaling had to be perfect and in her way and it was smothering. She couldn't understand the fact that I wasn't a robot ready to follow her every order.

I fell back down on the sheets, breathing out. Why the fuck did I have to fail? I should have ignored yesterday's motherfucker and just slit my fucking wrists instead of whining and being a petty bitch. But well, that's what I was, right? A stupid fuck up who couldn't stop complaining about every single shit. That was something I got from mom. I hated it but I didn't even realise I did it.

Well, fuck.

I could try and look at the positive side of being alive still but there were no fucking positive sides. I got up and changed. Today I would finish what I was supposed to finish yesterday.

I didn't want to do this anymore. I seethed off all the way to school, mom dropping me and Elissa off. Things were quiet although Elissa did keep talking and talking. Maybe the only positive thing about staying alive was that I got to hear Elissa one last time.

A thing I loved about Elissa was how free she was. Even as a child, she was just living off in her own little world. Mom hated that. She hated how Elissa would do whatever the hell she wanted and how she was a "problem child". It's stupid because every child is a problem child. But I admit, Elissa was different from other kids. I had a few suspicions here and there that maybe she had something but it didn't really matter.

"Stop slobbering all over yourself," Mom snapped at Elissa, making her turn and look at mom for a second. She swallowed before her gaze drifted away. She smiled.

"Bulldogs are cute," she spoke out, bouncing her little legs. I chuckled. Elissa was the only thing that stopped me from dying in that house but at this point, I couldn't hold off any longer. I felt guilty that Elissa would have to keep dealing with mom and dad by herself.

Mom huffed, rolling her eyes as Elissa began talking about how one day she would have many dogs on her house.

"Elissa, shut up!" Mom seethed, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I clenched my jaw. Elissa did quiet down for a second. She seemed fine, her bright eyes wavering around the car. I hated mom when she did this shit. I tried my best to let Elissa be as free as I could but I didn't think I would be enough for her to keep her light burning. I didn't want Elissa to stop shining ever. I loved her and I wanted her to stay strong and alive.

Hopefully, she would be able to do this without me.

A while later and Elissa started speaking again. We got to school moments after that and got off. I took Elissa to her class after ruffling her hair, making sure she knew I was listening to her speaking about how she wanted her life to be. She could go on and on and sometimes it was a little hard to follow but I learned to do so just fine. I kissed her head and left her on her class before going off to mine. Elissa really was a little sunshine and as long as I lived I would make sure she knew I loved her. I always said it to her and she said back with her big smile.

As soon as I sat down in my chair I could feel myself starting to drift off. No, not to sleep but into my mind. My chest sank and I breathed in. My friends greeted me and I did my best to smile back. I didn't want to smile. I wanted a bullet on my head, I wanted a noose around my neck, I wanted to stab myself in the eye.

The day went on and things didn't get better at all. Everything felt so heavy. My chest hurt, my heart hurts. I wanted to cry, to scream, to disappear. I had so many different scenarios on my head where I simply put an end on my life. I felt so shitty, too. Shitty for even considering something like suicide. Why the hell was I like this? I can't even describe this rightly. I know this seemed really dramatic of me but I wish I hadn't born. I'm such a shitty person. I should be glad for being alive but I'm so ungrateful. Moments like these were horrible. I felt horrible. I felt like I couldn't move. It felt numb. My body, my good sense, me. I was numbly drowning.

And I was so far gone in my head that school went by in a blink. At no moment I could focus on anything. The words spoken around me all were nothing but far whispers. I was underwater. A pat on my back brought me back for a moment enough to see Dan and Max drifting away. I did too.

I started walking away, my backpack vaguely grounding me before my mind got louder. I was so tired. So done, so exhausted and weak. I wanted to cry. I didn't. I couldn't tell if I was sad or numb, couldn't tell what I was feeling but I knew it was something. Something heavy, dragging me further down as if I didn't do it myself enough.

Although each step felt like I was about to collapse in the ground, I kept walking. At this point, I was numb even to feel my body walking. I was watching everything from another perspective and it wasn't my own. I saw the houses lessening and the trees becoming more frequent and I could hear the river flowing in my head. I needed to breathe. I couldn't breathe. Why couldn't I breathe?

Shortly enough, I was sitting on the ground beside the rock, leaning back on it, facing the sky. Death sounded so great. But I didn't want to do it. I didn't have the energy nor the pills anymore. I did have the blades with me but I was tired of the pain. Why can't I just disappear?

I exhaled. For a while I just laid there, feeling. I didn't want to feel but I did because I'm a fucking idiot who must be a fucking masochist or some shit. I'm fucked up. Another breath and I was getting my backpack out. I needed to stop thinking, to stop feeling. I just wanted to hide away from them but it would be easier to take a fucking bullet to my brain.

Something about those blades was taunting. I knew that maybe now I had stamina enough to maybe go ahead and slit my wrists and just end it but as my fingers traced the rough leather, something in me wanted to take a look. A bigger part wanted to throw that shit in the river and just die already but a little part of me wanted to know what had stopped me yesterday.

Well, what did I have to lose?

The little notebook seemed more like a journal. Not gonna lie, the O.S engraved on the front made it seem like some sort of movie shit. It was a little cool. I opened the first page, quirking my eyebrow. It had a few lines that made no sense. Maybe the owner was just trying up the pen or something like that. Then I flipped the page.

_It's 3:18, mouth tastes like corpse of every pregnant teen_

I quirked my eyebrow. Huh? I mean, that was a little... Weird?

_The minutes are hours, the hours are days_   
_I feel infected by your presence, you speak in tongues_   
_I smell the lies dancing on your blackened lungs_

Well damn, this poem was good.

_I whispered in her ear, "Fear me, dear, for I am Death"_   
_I'll take your hope, your dreams, your love till there's nothing left_   
_I whispered in her ear, "You better fear me, dear, for I am Death"_   
_I'll take that shit you call a life in a single fucking breath_

_I'll take your hope, I'll take your fucking dreams_   
_I'll take your love, I'll take everything, you fucking bitch_

Man, the hell did this chick did to them? She must have fucked them up majorly. It was a little pitiful, to be honest. But then I remembered that this motherfucker stopped me from dying and yeah, they deserved it.

Okay, they didn't physically stop me from dying but I couldn't kill myself when there was someone aware.

_I'll steal the diamonds from your eyes_   
_I'll turn your promises into lies_   
_I'll steal the diamonds from your eyes_   
_I'll turn your promises into lies_

_It's 3:18, mouth tastes like corpse of every pregnant teen_   
_The hours are days, the days are years_   
_I feel infected by your presence, you speak in tongues_   
_I smell the lies dancing on your blackened lungs_

_I hear the fear in your voice, but you shouldn't feel a thing_   
_Your life's already worse than any pain that I could bring_   
_I could make it December every day_   
_But you're so blind, it may as well be may_

The poem ended there, making me raise my eyebrows. This kinda was some good stuff.

"Give it back!"

My head turned on the other side of the river's direction, making me raise my eyebrows. There was this person, hair falling on their forehead, a hoodie on and jeans. The bottom of their face was covered so I could see only their eyes. I gazed from head to toe before I scoffed.

I can't believe a fucking emo stopped me.

"Fuck you," I spoke out, shoving the book back into my bag. I sat up, sighing out. They frowned. Their voice was pretty rough and low.

"Dude, this isn't yours!"

"Fuck off, little shit," I chuckled, standing up and throwing my bag on my shoulders. I glared down at him(?) before I turned around.

"Give me my notebook back or I tell everyone what you did."

I froze in my steps before I glanced around and behind me at him. I raised my eyebrows. This dude was funny. I crossed my arms.

"And what did I do?"

The emo boy seemed smug, holding that stupid thing to his face. I could see it in his eyes.

"That you cut yourself."

I smiled, tilting my head.

"Okay."

That seemed to make him falter and frown. I could see it in his hair moving.

"Okay?"

I nodded, breathing out.

"Okay. You have no proof anyways," I shrugged, stepping back before I turned again. He seemed to get desperate now, stepping closer to the river.

"Wait- No, give it back, please!"

I licked my lips, gazing up at the sky.

"You know what? I don't want to." I glanced back at him, a glare hardened out on my eyes. "Because of you, I'm still here. So no. If I have to suffer then so do you."

I kept walking. I heard him pleading again behind me but it only made me scoff.

The little bitch ruined my plans and now expected me to just leave it like that? Fuck no. He could suck my cock.

The walk back home was painful and filled with dread. I tried not to mind. But I did feel a little smug for knowing that the boy was probably tearing his stupid hair off. He deserved it.


	3. I Suck, You Suck, We All Suck

Do you ever just feel your sanity slipping away? There's a smile on your face and you're not necessarily content but you're not sad, you're just... There. But then suddenly you're crashing down. The smile fades away and the comfort does too. There's this hollowness that's left behind. And you can't explain why but it happens over and over, all throughout your day, all throughout your life. 

I never really wanted to be like this, you know? I never wanted to stoop as low as I did, I never wanted to be the cause of my own demise. But at some point, it stopped being my choice. The doubt I had in myself, in my life, easily turned into some twisted sort of hatred over it. The things that I loved became what I hate, the little things that made me appreciate the fact that I was alive now just made me numb. 

There was no reason to go on. We live, we die, that's it. It's sad but it's true.

Funnily enough, instead of appreciating the short time we spend on this earth, we spend it trying to become perfect to others' eyes. Maybe not, maybe I'm one of the few people that do this but I doubt that's true. I know I care too much and I'm not the only one. I think that what differs me from other people is that I wouldn't change myself to please someone else, you know? I could be wrong, hell knows I probably am, but changing who I am just doesn't seem appealing, I guess you could say. I know I'm losing my point maybe, or these words are senseless but I've seen people change for someone else and I guess that's something I never saw the point in doing.

But then again, maybe that's what's wrong with me.

I don't like changes, I can't follow them rightfully. I have my own pace but my pace isn't enough. So I just... Don't.

A slow exhale left my parted lips, eyes tracing the dark ceiling. 

I had a love-hate relationship with the nighttime. 

The pros were that I could, a hundred per cent, be alone. No people buzzing annoyingly in my ear, no eyes sometimes passing over me, no need for me to struggle to pay attention to anyone or anything, I could just let my mind run free. The cons were that my mind would run free. As much as I hated forcing myself out of my little make-belief world, I know I shouldn't be as invested onto it. I know I should be more aware of my surroundings, I know I should live in the real world.

But I hated it.

Something about out there is just... Bad. With a lack of better words, it sucks. Surely, there are good things out there but how can someone enjoy the good things when the bad is almost deafening? How can someone smile at a birth when there are people out there losing their lives unjustly? How can someone smile at love when there's only smothering hate around them? How can people see only the good when the bad is stinking every-fucking-where?

I just don't get it. I'm ignorant. I know I'm ignorant but... Not enough to be happy when I know someone out there is in unchangeable pain that could be easily solved if a person who has too much just had an ounce of empathy.

I'm ignorant but I like to think I'm empathetic. 

But I know my empathy only goes so far.

There's this heaviness I carry with me. A heavy selfishness, a heavy dullness that I can't shrug off. Situations that I could have fixed if only I had cared a little more, situations which anguished me but I was too lazy to do anything about it, people I lost because I was, am, too dull, people who used I used to care for before I became too indifferent.

But I never became indifferent. I always care but how am I supposed to show that I care when I don't know how, or what, care is? I only treat people the way they treat me, why is that so wrong?

I could have been a better brother so many times. I could have stepped up to help Elissa, I could have defended her, I could have protected her but I don't even know how to do so for myself.

I could have been a better son. I could have studied harder, I could have spent more times with my parents, I could have told them I loved them more times. But they never did the same to me. I don't know how my dad's voice sounds like when he says I love you. I don't know how my mom sounds when something catches her attention. Fuck, I barely know what they look like when they're extremely happy. I don't know them.

I could have been a better friend. I should have asked my friends how their day was going, should have asked them if they were okay. I should have asked about the things that made them happy, I should have comforted them when they were sad.

But alas, they never did this to me.

How am I supposed to keep people around when no one bothers to keep me around?

People wronged me my entire life. I wronged people my entire life. I could try and justify saying that I'm just human, I could try and justify with thousands of different reasons but it will never change the fact that, no matter what, I'm the one to blame. My actions drove people away no matter what I say, my apparent lack of care drove people away. But I don't know how to care. Is that really my fault? I don't know but my brain says it is. My head isn't afraid to drown me down in unmistakable guilt, my mind won't stop hammering over and over about the things I did.

And my newest sin that kept replaying into an insane-driving loop was stealing that journal. The boy, O.S., probably poured his heart down on those pages and I just stole them. I stole what possibly was his safe haven, his secrets and feelings. I know I would be raging if someone looked inside my head, the things I think and feel. I felt guilty for doing that with someone else.

But I'm ignorant. I wasn't the one that would feel the pain of being exposed unwantedly. I suck. I lacked empathy for him being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I lacked empathy for him almost witnessing a suicide. And although this guilt would devour me alive, I didn't mind.

A glance at the clock beside me told me that I was still awake and conscious at two am. Nothing new there. I breathed in and out, slowly shuffling to the end of the bed. Sometimes I couldn't control my body. Sometimes my limbs were too heavy to lift, my body was too stuck in place, my body didn't belong to me. Unfortunately for me, those times came more often than not.

But I did it, I got out of bed. It took me minutes but I managed to push myself up, I managed to sit hunched over, eyes tracing the room, wondering just why was I getting up.

But I wanted to feel something. I wanted the guilt to come to me because it was already swallowing me whole so if I fucked up one more time, maybe it would kill me for real.

I'm so tired of this.

I stood up. My body was about to sink down on the ground and if it did, I wouldn't get up. I dragged my feet to the boxes on the corner of my room. I stood still.

My backpack was sitting right on top of the box in front of me. I knew what was inside. And I could hear the little of good sense I had left behind that I shouldn't fucking do this. My body seemed to comply because my hand wouldn't move. In my head, I already had the book in my hands, the lights on and every secret, every thought, every sentiment of that boy was already a knowledge of mine. But physically I just stood there, staring at the bag with heavy eyes, heavy mind, heavy everything. Like a ghost, longing for a faraway place that I could be in instead of locked onto that boring house. I longed for peace but was eternal peace even real? Could someone actually be serene forever?

I breathed in. Not the time. I raised my hand, slowly, dreadfully, burdened. Unzipping the bag blindly, I searched around until the feeling under my fingertips wasn't cardboard but leather. I took it out, slowly dragging myself to the bed. I sunk down on it exhausted, taking my time to stay back against the wall. But I did. In the end, I did it.

Another heavy sigh. The notebook felt rather light in my hands but I knew its contents were anything but. I knew the words inside of this weren't just words placed together, I knew they were charged with whatever that haunted that boy for days, weeks, months, maybe years. And I felt bad. So bad, that I opened it. Reaching on the bedside table, I turned the lamp on, wincing at the light and blinking several times to ease the pain of the subtle change of illumination. See? Every subtle change hurt.

The first page I had read already so I swiped to the next.

And I read. I read and read and read, eyes slowly drinking in every ounce of emotion, every ounce of desperation, sadness, rage, emptiness, every ounce of pain that didn't belong to me, smiling faintly at the stupid titles like "Tell Slater Not To Wash His Dick" and "For Stevie Wonder's Eyes Only", confused at how would the dude make out with Medusa, saddened at how many times had him turned black and blue, just generally feeling empathetic at what had the dude been through. And, of course, feeling like shit at the fact that my eyes weren't supposed to chug these words down as I did. But I was... Impressed.

These poems held a significance that I would never understand and yet I could tell how much they meant. And there were still pages left, pages which I lost the courage to explore. So I didn't. I shut the journal, placing it on the bedside table and turned the lamp off, letting the darkness consume me once more. And I rested back. I thought.

Part of me wondered if he was suicidal too. So many analogies about hanging himself and slitting his wrists had been over the pages. I wondered if, he too, had tried and failed. I wondered what made him that way, if he knew why. If the world had done him rough, if his parents neglected him, if his friends neglected him, if he felt as invisible as I did. I wondered how much of him was like me. And I wondered if, by taking his safe haven, I pushed him over the edge.

I wondered if I took his life. If he was hanging on the ceiling by now, swaying slowly from side to side because he thought he was finally lost. I wondered if he found the courage once he was stripped down by me.

And I stared at the wall in front of me, jealous. Jealous that he stopped me from leaving so he could leave. Jealous that I might have pushed him down onto an eternal abyss instead of pushing myself. Hurting, too. Hurting because I didn't want to take anyone down with me once the breath left my lungs and the blood left my body, hurting because I, selfishly, wanted to be the cause of my own demise only.

And as the sun slowly rose, as the night went away, I promised myself, my aching eyes who saw what they weren't supposed to, that I would blank this out. I promised my aching soul that I would at least redeem myself however I could. I promised that boy that I would give him his safe place back. Today, after school.

And that would be my last act.


	4. ✨Depression✨

I hate it here.

Fuck being poetic, I don't want to be poetic. My death isn't supposed to be poetic, my faded will to live isn't supposed to be some sort of aesthetic shit. If I want to die, I don't want to put a bunch of hearts and stars around it. I want it to be ugly, I want it to be raw. I don't want to show the beauty of suicide because come on, there's not a single part of it that's pretty. Getting pushed to the point to take your own life isn't pretty, the fuck it is. But some people seemed to think so. For some fucked up reason. They are really fucking stupid.

I skipped school today. Oh, to stay in bed and scroll through Tumblr just to stress myself? Yes, that's exactly it. But at some point, I put my phone down. Felt my chest sinking. Ran out of breath. Thought a bit. Maybe I should have gone to see my friends but I quickly realised that, no, no I shouldn't. I mean, who would want to spend the last day of their life in school? Not even a psychopath, I'll tell you that. School can suck my dick. Though, maybe if I had gone, I could have found the dude and gave him back his journal and skipped straight out of there. Wait, shit, I should have done that. But I didn't. Oh well.

But now I have more time to decide where. I mean, by the lake is out of limits now that he knows what I'm planning and, well, I don't need to traumatise the dude, but home is _also_ out of limits. I can always jump in front of a car? Make it seem like an accident? No one would know anyways. Maybe I should leave my suicide note somewhere for Elissa? Shit, no, she's too young. Maybe for mom? Yeah... Sounds like a bad idea but I'll leave it for mom. Then she might get a reality check and take better care of Elissa. As if.

A slow breath left my lips. I was yet to move more than just my hands. I didn't want to move. I didn't want anything. Fuck the universe for giving me life. I didn't ask for this.

I know I'm a bitchy motherfucker, shut up.

I was barely functioning at this point. My chest was caving in, my lungs were hardened. I'm so tired. But. A goal. Right.

Still, though. There was no energy left in me. I didn't want to get up, didn't want to go outside, didn't want to be anywhere. It was just pointless, and that much I could recognise. But I'm cold. Trapped. Lonely. I don't know what I want, why I want that, what I'm doing.

I can't think. Can't breathe. Can't see, can't hear, can't feel. It hurts to be this way. Hurts to exist. I pushed myself off the bed. Got out of it. Slouched up to my backpack, grabbed the box, opened. Grabbed the blade. Pressed down on my wrists. Cut deep. Blood went everywhere. I went dizzy. I passed out.

I died.

I slowly blinked. My head felt so heavy against the pillow. My body felt so heavy. Couldn't lift my limbs. Couldn't. A slow exhale. Lazy blink. Didn't want to move. Didn't want to care. Didn't want shit.

My phone started to ring. My eyes flickered to it. I was trapped. Couldn't move. It was annoying. Loud, so very loud. Made me tear up. My ears were ringing. It just hurt.

I didn't want to postpone my end. I didn't have the strength to make it happen either. Sadly, I can't just be gone.

I miss the past. Sure, I don't remember it. Don't remember back then, when life was simpler and things weren't this smothering, don't know how it felt like, but I don't think it was this bad. I miss back then.

The tear that slipped down the bridge of my nose didn't even phase me. The tightness in my throat and chest was familiar by now. The heaviness was too much but it wasn't unusual. I breathed in. Shut my eyes. My phone stopped ringing, followed by an even more deafening silence. More tears slipped off of my eyes. But I wasn't feeling sad. I was...Numb, I think. I don't know. Whatever I was feeling, it was too much. I swallowed hard. Prepared myself mentally. My fingers twitched.

Don't know how long it took me. It didn't come in seconds, maybe not even in minutes. But. I pushed myself up. I had stopped crying by now. But it was still too much. Still too loud. Still too heavy. Painful. But I was standing now. Standing. My eyes flickered over my room. Standing. It was hard not to fall. Didn't bother taking my phone. Got the journal. Shrugged in my jacket, bit my lip. Closed my eyes, my body leaning against the wall.

I was about to crumble. Couldn't even stand. Didn't want to walk, was so so tired. But. I promised. I didn't care about that promise anymore. I made it hours ago and already wanted to break it. Could just throw the journal on the trash. Walk downstairs. Sink a knife onto my stomach. Say goodbye for real.

I didn't. Straightened myself up, breathed in deeply. I got my headphones, didn't care about hiding them. Got my phone. I didn't want to hear anything. No song, nothing. I wanted silence to sink deeper into my mind, to dissipate further from this reality. I was, though, far away already. Don't think I could ever come back. Didn't want to come back.

Music was better than the world though. It was so painful to be outside. I couldn't stand the world outside this house, couldn't stand this house either. Couldn't stand being alive.

I just want to fucking die.

I placed the earplugs on my ear, got my playlist on, played whatever song. Star Shopping came on first. I scoffed mentally. Breathed in. I put my phone in my pocket, taking every step almost carefully downstairs. I could feel my body giving up.

"All of the stars have a reason", Peep sang. It was a really pretty line. Sweet. Hopefully. But a lie. I realised that, yeah, everything exists for a reason, but I couldn't take that for myself. I didn't have a reason, except, maybe, to fertilise the ground. Help a tree to grow strong with my decomposed body. So yeah, maybe I did have a purpose.

To die. Death was my purpose.

I locked the door behind me. My skin broke out with goosebumps over being outside. I glanced at the sun, looked away right after. Course I did, my eyes hurt. Everything did. But my last action. My way to repent my damned soul. I really didn't want to be here. Didn't want to walk to the forest. I did so anyway. Didn't even realise I did so. Of course, I saw the trees and houses and people. But I didn't at the same time.

It was a bit surprising that I had gotten by the lake. Wasn't that my goal, though? I glanced around, taking one earbud out. I don't even know what song was playing, couldn't even pay attention to that. Looked at the other side, where the dude was previously, sighed slowly. Stepped forward. I didn't care as I got my feet wet, my flip-flops probably going to be gross after. Didn't care about that. I crossed the river.

Placing the journal down where he might trip on, or even see if he wasn't fucking blind. The grass was green here, so the journal might look like a rock from afar. If he doesn't find it, then that's not on me. I stepped back, shoving my hands on my pockets again, looking around. I didn't move. I shut my eyes.

It hurt. For a while, all I did was stay there. Motionless. But then I inhaled sharply, opening my eyes and forcing myself to step away, crossing the river again. For a second, I really wanted to drown myself in it. Let my body be carried over the flow. I wouldn't have to care about anything after I was dead. I could easily just do this.

I didn't. I wasn't even sure if I was going to kill myself anymore.

Of course, I would. But I didn't have the energy to do so today. Even if it would be better if I just did it. Finished this. Ended the numbness, the pain, the sorrow, the anger, the floating away, the mindless thoughts.

Just want it to end.

I stepped onto the rocks then went to the grass and I was planning on leaving until I heard a stick break behind me. I stopped. Didn't turn around.

I wasn't scared. Didn't care enough to be. Didn't. Care.

I wasn't sure why I had stopped. I wasn't sure what I was doing. It was hard to move. I heard more shuffling then things went silent for a while. I'm not sure how long.

"Thanks," he spoke faintly. I struggled but I looked back at him. He had the journal tight on his hands, biting his lip, looking back at me. I just stared. Not sure why. Just did. I was looking through him. I could tell he was getting uncomfortable.

I looked away. To where the river progressed. The horizon. Looked further. Out. I want out. Please. Why can't I just die. I can't do this anymore.

"H-hey-" I blinked back, glancing back at him. He looked nervous. My mind was blank. Could barely hear him. I felt underwater. Lost. Away. It was so hard to stay grounded.

I didn't speak. My lips were sealed together even though they were slightly parted. My mouth was sewed, always had been.

I sewed it myself.

"Are you- are you okay?"

He looked awkward asking this. It was cute. My face remained the same. Empty, maybe. I don't know what kind of face I was making. I blinked slowly. Looked back into the horizon. Drifted away for a second. Couldn't stay grounded.

I nodded numbly. Didn't make a sound. I turned around, to leave. He spoke up again.

"Did- did you... Read it?"

I stopped again. Breathed in and out slowly, shoulders hunching over even more.

Please, just let me leave.

I nodded again. I heard him shuffling.

"Oh."

The guilt came on. I inhaled sharply but silently. Let my eyes slip shut. Parted my lips further. I could barely form words. I cleared my throat. It hurt to speak but I forced myself. It took me a few seconds of me just breathing but I did it.

"You're talented," I spoke faintly, my jaw clenched, barely moving. Wasn't even sure if he heard but I waited. Heard him shuffling again. Didn't think he would speak again.

"Thanks," he responded. I hummed. I took another step forward. "Do you-" I clenched my jaw hard once he spoke again. He took a pause. "Want to. I don't know, talk? About. You know. Your, uh, self-harming thing?"

I blinked slowly. I turned around, blinking at him. I stared at him again and once again made him uncomfortable. Forced my lips to open more. I tilted my head. Breathed out.

"Wasn't self-harming," I spoke through my clenched teeth, slowly. Didn't want to speak. Didn't want to be here. He rolled his eyes.

"I think I know what I saw," he spoke, deadpanning at me. "And you seemed like you were about to slit your wrists."

Oh please, this isn't even your fucking business. Emo bitch. I just blinked at him. Kept on my staring.

He was uncomfortable again. Clutching the journal close to his chest, lips pursed tightly as he avoided eye contact but glanced at me displeased sometimes.

Finally, I let out a sigh from my nose.

"Self-harm isn't my thing," I shrugged slowly. Everything I did was slow. It was hard to do anything. "I'm a... One time thing guy."

I didn't know why I said that. I could barely understand why I said that. Couldn't understand what I meant. He, though, seemed surprised. His eyebrows were high, it was possible to see even if his hair was crossing his forehead. He was studying me confused. But then his eyes widened and his eyebrows furrowed harshly, his lips parting.

"You- you mean- wait, were you going to-" I wrinkled my nose. Stepped back, turned around for good. I started walking. I heard him exclaim something but I was slipping my earbud onto my ear again. Then I walked home. And then suddenly that afternoon wasn't real anymore. A faded dream. In a matter of seconds, I had forgotten that interaction. All I knew was that I had given the boy his book back.

Now I had nothing holding me back.

Except for my own will. Couldn't move. Barely breathe.

I just wanted the void to come to get me. Make me a part of it. Erase me for good. For the better.

Why can't I disappear forever? For good? To be nothing more than a collective fever dream that will be forgotten in a matter of minutes?

Why was I still here?

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, I know I have too many fics going on but this one is because I kinda need relief from myself. this will be extremely triggering and probably won't be cute anytime soon. hopefully, I don't update it too quickly since I will be writing this whenever I feel suicidal. eh. hope no one read this. sorta.


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